Inside Looking Out
by ToErosHuman
Summary: Scenes from the lives of our favorite mutants. Characters, pairings, and subjects vary. Updated as inspiration strikes. Chapter 3: Luck O' the Irish: Saint Patty's Day with the XMen.
1. The Odd Couple

Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine. The world isn't mine. But boy do I wish they were…

A/N: I've been an X-Men fan for as long as I can remember, and loved fanfiction once I discovered it. This, however, is my first attempt at writing it. It will probably wind up as a collection of one-shots, if I find enough inspiration. Expect a lot of Rogue, but I'd like to work with them all eventually. Expect Romy. Don't expect it to be limited to Romy. Reviews, while not necessary, are greatly appreciated. Let me know what you like or don't like, so I can try to improve for the future.

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**Regard**

The sound of the bell signaled several things. To the students of Bayville High, it was an alarm; time to wake from their self-induced comas and wander toward their next destination in a burst of chaotic energy before once more settling into a lethargic stasis to wait for the while process to start again.

To the teachers, it was a reprieve, a brief respite between the crowded hours of crowded classrooms, a time when the audience disappeared and they could take five precious minutes to put their chalk down and just be people worrying about their own daily lives.

To any unfortunate soul found wandering the halls, the bell was a warning, a life-savings device that alerted them to the imminent danger and the need to quickly find a safe haven or run the risk of being trampled.

For one young mutant, however, the bell was the gunshot at the start of a race. The objective: simple, really. Merely get out the door, reach her locker, switch out books, and lose herself in the shuffle without running into…

"Hey Rogue!"

_Sigh_

… her roommate. Kitty Pryde. The only person capable of completely disregarding the "back off" wall her moody companion projected into the school hallway. Even in the crush of people and bookbags, elbows jostling and bodies pressed against each other, no one would come within a foot of the Rogue. Except Kitty. As the younger girl darted through the crowd to catch up to her, Rogue idly wondered if obliviousness might actually be considered part of Kit's mutation.

Or maybe it was just that she was used to walking through walls.

* * *

** Schedules**

"But, like, seriously Rogue! Don't you think it's just a little bit weird?"

Rogue shoved her books into her locker and reached for her bag. "What Ah think, Kit, is that it's no wonder you're having trouble in Trig if this is what you're thinking about in class."

Kitty blew out a breath in annoyance. "Come on, I'm, like, not kidding! I just can't believe it's all a coincidence. There must be an explantation!" She jumped as her friend slammed her locker door shut.

"Was someone blowing dope in your study hall again? 'Cause you're acting even weirder than normal." Rogue turned and started down the hallway.

"Ugh! Rogue, I really think I'm onto something here." She jogged to catch up to the taller girl. "I mean, why should the bad guys always wait till we're out of school or on vacation or expelled or whatever to make their move? Wouldn't it make more sense to, I don't know, hit us while we're distracted or something? How come the Professor never needs us during school hours?"

Dark-lined eyes rolled skyward. "Ah dunno, Kitty. Maybe he has a special mutant strike force for school hours, but he doesn't want to hire them full time because he'd have to offer them dental. Would you just let it rest?"

Kitty crossed her arms in annoyance. "Fine, laugh about it all you want. I still think we should mention it to Scott and see what he says."

A slow smirk spread across her friend's face. "Well, if you want to know so badly, we could check it out ourselves. Actually, you're probably right. We should go now, so we can catch them in the act."

"Now? But we've still got sixth period! Don't you, like, remember what happened last time we skipped school?"

Rogue turned to her, the picture of well-intentioned sincerity. "But you're right Kit. This is important. There could be something much more sinister than Ah had thought. What if the mansion is under attack right now, and the Professor won't call us because he doesn't want us to miss school? It could be the end of us all! Isn't saving our home worth a detention?"

Hands on her hips, Kitty glared sternly at her roommate. "You're being ridiculous! No one's going to attack! It's, like, the middle of the day! And I'm not going to get another detention just because of your dumb conspiracy theory!"

"But…"

"No! No buts! We are going to sixth period, and that's the end of it! Now drop and let's get to class, we're going to be late!" The sophomore turned and stalked down the hall, muttering under her breath about crazy roommates who read way too much science fiction.

Rogue chuckled under her breath and shouldered her bag. "Ah've got to get Logan to teach Abbott and Costello in Tactics."


	2. Condemned

A/N: I'd like to apologize for any aesthetic issues in my posts. I'm new to the format so some things don't turn out the way I expect. Any tips on formatting would be helpful.

I think I'm going to start adding a timeline for each piece as I add it so you have an idea of when it's happening. I may or may not do this for all of them, maybe just when I think it needs clarification. Let me know what you think. Also, some chapters, like the last one, may have more than one drabble to them. Page breaks signify a new story.

A big thanks to requim17 for being my first ever reviewer! As a token of my appreciation, here's a little something for you…

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**

* * *

Gravel**

(Continuity: After "Mainstream," before "Stuff of Villains")

It pissed him off to no end. Just who the hell did those worthless flatlines think they were? They should know better now.

All his life, his whole damn_ life_, they had treated him this way. Looked down on him, like they were better than him. As if he was some sort of mangy mutt who wasn't worth more than the effort it took to kick it.

But he had learned, and he had grown, and he had shown them that this mutt had teeth. They had been afraid of him, and he enjoyed it, because for once in his life he had _power_. But they didn't respect him.

He saw the way they looked at him, how they thought of him. A bum, a loser, a no-good punk. Hell, he didn't have to be very observant; they had no problem saying to his face. Not even now. Especially not now. They knew he was a mutant, but they still didn't respect him. They feared him more than ever, and they disdained him more than ever.

Maybe fear wasn't power. Maybe it was just fear.

He'd show them all, if he could. He'd make them regret every sneer, every laugh, every order, every night that he came home with only an aching back and fifty bucks in his pocket to show for twelve hours of hard labor.

Cheap bastards. Cheap, miserable, bigoted bastards.

Sometimes, late at night, as he tried to ignore Fred's snoring and fall unconscious, he wondered if maybe they were right. Was he really that worthless? He wasn't good, or kind, or generous, or responsible. Even Kitty had called him a hood. Pretty Kitty, the one person who had ever made him think that maybe, just maybe, he could be more than a no-good punk. That he could do something that he could be _proud_ of.

Stupid, really. Why waste time thinking about it? He wasn't a hero. He was a worthless, irresponsible hood who needed to get up early so he could shovel dirt for a bunch of sneering bastards who didn't pay minimum wage.

After all, he had a house full of mutants to feed.

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A/N: I've always liked Lance as a character. He's had it pretty rough, but he's not really a bad guy underneath it all. That doesn't mean that he and Kitty are supposed to be together, though. There's too much baggage, and it's too much pressure for her to be his reason to be good. Relationships based on one-sided need never last. Keep any suggestions coming... they help inspire me. 


	3. Luck O' the Irish

**A/N:** I meant to get this out for the holiday, but I was too busy celebrating. Please enjoy these in the spirit of Irish Day, as my friend calls it. May the road rise up to meet you, and may the wind at your back not be the result of the corned beef and cabbage you had for dinner. Slainte!

(And please be advised, all accents are simply my way of trying to phonetically create the sounds in my head. If they seem inconsistent, that's because the characters have more of an accent on some words than others, at least when I imagine it. Let me know if they seem distracting, and I'll stop. I need to know before I attempt my Romy chapter.)

**Disclaimer: ** Not mine.

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**Brogue**

"Hey Rahne! Happy Saint Patrick's Day!"

The resident lycanthrope looked over at her friend. "Oh. Thanks, Jubilee. Happy Saint Patty's Day to ye as well."

Jubilee gave her the once over. "Um, Rahne, where's your green, girl? I thought you'd be doing it up today."

"Why would ye think that?"

"I dunno. Isn't this like you national holiday or something? I thought all Irish people made a big deal out of Saint Patrick's Day."

"Umm, Jubes? A'm not Irish. A'm Scottish."

Jubilee looked confused. "Oh, well, same diff, right?"

"What? Not, 'tis not the 'same diff!' How could ye even think that?"

"Well, they both talk funny like you do. And, you know, the men wear funny looking skirts and play bagpipes to send the leprechauns to sleep so they can steal their gold, and stuff, right?"

Rahne gaped at her. Her lips moved, but she couldn't seem to make a sound. Finally, she took a big breath and tried again. "No! No, that's not right! Where on earth did ye – don't ye – how could ye possibly think that…"

"Hey girls! Dude, Rahne, what's up with you? You're all red and gaspy. What's wrong with her, Jubes?" Bobby asked his friend.

"I dunno. She's like all ticked off because I thought she was Irish or something."

"Oh. Wait, you're not Irish?"

"No!" the younger girl yelled. "A'm Scottish!"

"Oh," Bobby said again. "Aren't they practically the same thing?"

Rahne snarled and pulled at her pigtails. "You two are bloody idiots! Haven't ye ever seen a Sean Connery movie?"

"Oh yeah!" said Jubes. "Darby O'Gill and the Little People! I loved that movie when I was a kid!"

"Yeah," Bobby joined in. "Me too!"

"That's it! If ye know what's good ye, ye'll get out of my way." She pushed past them and stalked towards the grounds.

"But Rahne…" Bobby started.

"Bugger off!" Although Bobby and Jubilee weren't familiar with that particular term, they got the impression that it wasn't a very nice one. The strange purple color spreading across Rahne's face was a clue.

Wisely, they let her go.

Rahne was still seeing read, which, combined with her fast pace and the fact that she was turning a corner, probably explains why she ran headlong into Jean Grey.

"Woah, careful! Oh, hey there, Rahne. Happy Saint Patrick's Day!"

"Grrraaaaahhhhhhh!"

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**Threefold**

The early spring sunshine filtered through the trees on the perimeter of the lawn. Most of the inhabitants of Xavier's School for the Gifted had turned out to enjoy the unusually balmy weather, spread throughout the mansion's extensive grounds in various states of repose or entertainment. From tea on the veranda to napping in the shade to a pick-up game of touch football, the tenants of the mansion seemed to have come to a unanimous decision to relax before the rowdy party planned for later that night.

Rogue sat with her brother in the dappled shade at the edge of the lawn. Since the two had faced their mother together, she had made the effort to spend more time with him. It was obvious that he took their connection very seriously, and she found to her surprise that she enjoyed having a sibling. These peaceful moments were that much more powerful for being shared.

"What are they doing?" she wondered aloud, as she watched a group of the younger students on their hands and knees searching through the grass.

"Trying to find four-leaf clovers," Kurt answered her. "Zey are supposed to be lucky, ya?"

"Ah guess. And they're the official mascot of Saint Patrick's Day, or something, aren't they?"

Kurt smiled. "Actually, zat would be the shamrock. The three-leaf clover. The fourth leaf is supposed to stand for luck, but not many people know vhat the first three stand for." He looked over at his sister. "Do you know?" She shook her head. "Would you like me to tell you?"

Rogue looked at her brother. He was smiling, but unlike his normal joking demeanor, he seemed suddenly serious. Mature, she thought suddenly. He seemed very mature. Wondering what it was about him that had wrought the sudden change, she slowly nodded her head. She really wanted to hear was he was about to say, she realized with some surprise.

"Saint Patrick used the shamrock to teach the Irish about the Trinity. How three separate beings can make up one entity, even as three leaves make up one plant. So the shamrock stands for the Trinity. But it also came to stand for the theological virtues as well." He gazed at his hand, and she saw that he held a clover between two fingers. "You see, the first leaf is for faith. The second stands for hope, and the third stands for the greatest virtue of all." He looked up from the little plant and met her eyes. "Love."

Rogue stared at him for a moment, wondering where this serious young man had come from and what he had done with her little brother.

"So," he continued, "people came to believe that if the three leaves of the shamrock stood for faith, hope, and love, zen a fourth leaf would stand for luck. But I believe that if you have enough of the first three, you can make your own luck, ya?" He smiled at her, and she found herself hard pressed to look at his happy face and disagree.

"And do you know vhat the best part is? Four-leaf clovers are rare. But zere are shamrocks everywhere, just waiting to be picked!" He gestured, and Rogue looked down to see that they were sitting in a patch of clover. She reached down, pulling out one of the small stalks. She brought it up to eye level and considered the little plant for a moment. Then she tucked it into the back of her glove, and quirked a little half smile at her brother.

Kurt grinned back, and they turned to resume watching their friends in a comfortable silence.

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**Tradition**

Scott darted his eyes from side to side. From his hiding place, he could see most of the corridor. Reassuring himself that the coast was clear, he darted down the hallway to his next safe zone. The sound of voices warned him of approaching company, and he ducked into a side room.

He waited until the voices passed, trying to control his breathing. Panting would give him away. He nearly strangled himself, but he managed to steady his breath before opening the door cautiously, scouting down the hallway, and plotting his course. It looked like he had a clear shot at his objective, provided his luck held and nobody else came down the corridor for the next five seconds.

_Just like the obstacle course in the Danger Room. Easy. Don't even think about it. Just go. Go!_ With that, he yanked the door open and ran full tilt down the hall. He slid to a stop at his destination, opened the heavy door, jumped inside, and slammed it shut behind him.

"Scott? What on earth..."

"Professor, I need your help!" Scott interrupted as Xavier wheeled his chair over to him. "They've been at it all day. I can't take it! I thought I could handle it at first, but it's driving me crazy! I should have asked Jean for her help before she left, but I didn't think of it, and now it's too late. I know I have a green shirt somewhere, but I can't remember which one it is, and they all look red and brown, and I don't know who else I can trust, they're all out to get me, even Storm, and I can't…"

He broke off and stared in disbelief at the arm where the professor had just pinched him.

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**A/N:** I love when people get Irish and Scottish mixed up. It makes me want to hit them. Both are totally cool and completely different. I felt the need to explore Rogue and Kurt's post-Apocalyptic relationship, since the show hinted at a real solidarity there. And I have a friend at work who is red-green colorblind, which sucks for Saint Patrick's Day. I'm one of those people who pinches the people with no green on. Poor Scott. Reviews encourage me, and I've got some good ideas on the back burner. So let me know your thoughts. 


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